Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s your brother.”
“And I’m your daughter,” I said softly. “I needed you too.”
She looked away immediately.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, she admitted, “I didn’t know how to stop.”
That was the closest thing to honesty I had heard from her in years.
The ending wasn’t dramatic. Tyler didn’t suddenly become responsible. My mother didn’t magically transform overnight. Real life rarely ties itself into perfect little bows.
But consequences arrived anyway.
Linda met with the mortgage counselor. She sold her house before foreclosure and moved into a smaller apartment she could actually afford. Tyler refused the job placement programs, blamed everyone else, and eventually left to stay with a friend in Seattle. Three months later, he called asking if he could move into our basement.
READ MORE ON THE NEXT PAGE…
